My Wives are Beautiful Demons-Chapter 663: Rule Change

"You look… fine," Sepphirothy commented, casting a lingering glance at Sapphire and Katharina's legs—both trembling in a rather conspicuous way. Honestly, she didn't even understand how those two were still standing.

"S-shut up," Sapphire muttered, her voice faltering as she used her own daughter for support. One hand was firmly intertwined with Katharina's; the other… well, pressed against her own waist as if that would prevent her body from collapsing.

Katharina wasn't in any better shape. Her face was hot, her breath short, trying to maintain her posture while clearly failing at it.

Neberius approached with the insolent calm of someone who has no regard for their own physical integrity. He circled mother and daughter slowly, analyzing them from head to toe, his eyes too curious.

"Wow…," he commented, with a crooked smile. "Even for a primordial, walking like that is impressive." He tilted his head, genuinely intrigued. "So that's it? Sex is really that good? I've never done it."

The silence that followed was short.

Very short.

Sapphire let go of her daughter's hand for a moment, spun her still unsteady body—and landed a punch.

It wasn't an ordinary punch.

It was a punch with at least half her strength.

The impact was so absurd that Neberius simply… went flying. He crossed the room, tore a hole in the wall, and kept going, disappearing on the horizon with a distant thud that echoed throughout the place.

Katharina blinked a few times. "Mom…"

Sapphire took a deep breath, leaning on her again. "One thing at a time," she murmured, clearly exhausted. "And this… has gone too far."

Sepphirothy, Vergil, Ada, and Raphaeline stared at Sapphire, and sighed when Neberius appeared beside Sepphirothy. "I ended up in the Atlantic," she commented.

Vergil chuckled and placed a hand on her head. "Whenever you want to know if sex is good, I'll be available. But now…" He looked around.

"Paimon," Vergil said, and she, the Demonic Archon of Entertainment, emerged from behind a pillar. "Oh… I wanted to surprise you."

Vergil looked at her… "With three primordials, and me here?" He questioned, almost laughing.

"Don't be mean," she said. "Is everything ready?" She asked with a strange look.

"What happened?" Vergil asked, frowning slightly. He didn't need dramatic announcements to know—something was wrong. He felt it.

The woman in front took a deep breath before answering. "The tournament rules have changed… now." She looked away for a moment and then stared at Ada. "It won't be in pairs anymore."

The silence was heavy.

"It's a competition of absolute strength," she continued. "No pairs. No synergy. Just brute power." She hesitated. "I don't know what led to this change, but… it doesn't seem right."

Sapphire narrowed her eyes immediately.

"Are you sure?" she questioned, her voice firm, suspicious. "This is too sudden. Gods don't change rules at the last minute." She crossed her arms. "They're too perfect when it comes to big events. They plan everything centuries in advance."

Paimon scratched the back of her neck, visibly bothered. "Yeah… I thought it was strange too." She grimaced. "And that wasn't all. The hundred-year rule was extended."

Vergil raised an eyebrow. "Extended by how much?"

"Two hundred and fifty years now."

Vergil was silent for a second. Then he sighed, clearly bored. "How pointless." He turned his face toward Ada, with a half-smile of irony. "And here I was thinking I could finally fight alongside my beautiful wife."

Ada just stared at him, unsure whether to roll her eyes… or worry even more.

Something about that tournament was wrong.

Vergil listened to everything in silence.

Then… he relaxed.

Literally.

He leaned back, calmly crossed his arms, and let out a short, almost bored laugh.

"Honestly?" he said, shrugging. "Whatever."

Everyone looked at him.

"Doubles, solo, absolute strength, synergy, no synergy…" He tilted his head slightly, as if listing irrelevant things. "In the end, I'll win anyway."

Sapphire frowned. Ada opened her mouth to retort. Sephirothy raised an eyebrow.

But before either of them could say anything—

The space behind Paimon tore open.

A dark pinkish-black magic circle opened on the ground, runes pulsing urgently. From within emerged a hooded figure, immediately kneeling with a dry snap of submission.

"Archon Paimon," the voice said, low and tense. "I bring an urgent message… from Lord Amon."

The atmosphere shifted.

Paimon's playful tone vanished in an instant. "Speak."

The subordinate swallowed hard. "The no-killing rule… has been removed."

Absolute silence.

"What?" Ada was the first to react.

"Confirmed," the figure continued. "It's no longer a tournament in the traditional sense." He hesitated, as if even repeating it was dangerous. "The new internal guidelines call the event… a great battle without rules."

Vergil's eyes widened slightly.

"Anything goes," the messenger concluded. "Any means. Any power. Any outcome."

Sapphire felt a chill run through her stomach.

"This isn't a tournament…" she murmured, her voice low and heavy with tension. "This is an organized massacre."

Sepphirothy tilted her head slightly, a cold smile appearing at the corner of her lips. "Or a cleansing."

Paimon closed his eyes for a moment, clicking his tongue in irritation. "Amon must be tearing his hair out over this."

Vergil, on the other hand… laughed.

It wasn't a carefree laugh.

Nor was it amused.

It was low. Controlled. Dangerous.

"Ah." He uncrossed his arms and took a step forward. "Now it all makes sense."

Ada stared at him, her discomfort evident. "Vergil… this means that—"

"A Battle Royale," he finished, with a disturbing tranquility. "Putting champions to kill each other while the gods wager amongst themselves." He let out a short, nervous laugh. "What a pathetic joke." The smile vanished.

Vergil's face transformed, features hardening, his presence weighing on the air like an unsheathed blade.

"Arrogant."

"Impulsive."

"Disgusting."

Each word came out slowly, laden with contempt.

The energy around him grew dense, dark—not explosive, but suffocating. The kind of aura that doesn't scream… it just warns.

Vergil raised his gaze, his eyes gleaming in a decidedly inhuman way.

"Ah…" he released some of his murderous thirst, "I just want to kill everyone now." He commented.

Sapphire sighed along, "I wanted to go fight now too… too bad only you can go," she said sadly, "I wanted to kill some gods…" she sighed.

Vergil remained silent for a few seconds after that.

Then… he stretched.

Literally.

He raised his arms above his head, cracked his neck from side to side, and let out a long sigh, like someone who had just decided something extremely simple.

"Well…" he said, too relaxed for what had just been announced. "This doesn't change anything."

Everyone looked at him.

"Doubles, solo, no rules, rules, massacre disguised as a tournament…" He lowered his arms and smiled calmly—dangerously calmly. "I was only going to go easy on you at first out of politeness."

Sapphire's eyes widened slightly. "Go easy on you…"

Vergil tilted his head. "Yeah. That thing about measuring strength, studying the opponent, letting the gods feel comfortable." He shrugged. "Now there's no reason anymore."

The aura around him began to adjust. It didn't explode. It didn't spiral out of control.

It simply… settled.

Heavy. Stable. Deadly.

"If it's a free-for-all," he continued, walking a few steps ahead, "then I'll go all in from the first second." His tone was calm, almost casual. "No holding back. No warning. No mercy."

Sepphirothy let out a low laugh. "They really dug their own grave."

Vergil stopped and turned his face slightly, his eyes gleaming with crystal-clear intent.

"I'll fight like I always have," he said. "But now… I'll kill everything that gets in my way."

No hesitation. No doubt.

Just certainty.

Sapphire sighed deeply, crossing her arms despite her still visible fatigue. "I wanted to go too," she murmured, genuinely frustrated. "Killing a few gods would do me good."

Vergil chuckled softly, without turning to her. "Save that wish." He gave her a sideways glance. "When this is over… maybe heaven needs a house call."

Ada swallowed hard.

Paimon smiled—not with amusement, but with anticipation.

The tournament had ceased to be a spectacle.

Now it was a sentence.

The air trembled.

Right in the center of the hall, the space tore open like an ancient fabric being forced open, revealing a golden portal, adorned with Norse runes that slowly spun, singing softly like blades in motion.

From within it, three Valkyries emerged.

Light armor, elegant and lethal at the same time, long cloaks that billowed even without wind, spears resting naturally on their shoulders. Their presence did not overwhelm—command respect was the right word.

The one in front stepped forward.

Tall, impeccable posture, silver hair partially pulled back, eyes sharp as if she had seen thousands of battles and survived them all.

Brynhild.

She looked up… and met Vergil's gaze.

Vergil smiled.

Not an exaggerated, provocative smile—just that confident half-smile, all too familiar between warriors who had crossed paths before.

"Finally," he commented. "I was already missing the beauty of the Valkyries."

Brynhild raised an eyebrow… and laughed.

A short, amused laugh, not at all offended.

"You really need to stop hitting on me, Vergil," she replied, shaking her head. "Someday I might not be able to resist."

The two Valkyries behind her exchanged a knowing glance, clearly used to that kind of exchange.

Vergil opened his arms slightly, theatrically. "I promise nothing." Brynhild stepped forward, her tone shifting to something more professional, though the playful glint was still there.

"You need to go. The coliseum is already moving." She then turned to Sapphire. "Queen of the Underworld."

Sapphire straightened her posture automatically.

"Soon," Brynhild continued, "another Valkyrie will come to fetch you." Her gaze swept over Sapphire, Katharina, and the others. "You will be escorted directly to the VIP area of ​​the coliseum. Prime view. Total protection."

She paused briefly, the corner of her mouth lifting again.

"Considering what's about to happen… I recommend you don't miss a thing."

Vergil chuckled softly. "VIP, huh? You're confident."

Brynhild looked at him seriously now. "No." Then she smiled. "We're curious."

She turned, gesturing with her spear.

"Let's go," she said to the other two.